


Bloody mistletoe

by BrittaR (Taaya)



Series: Winter kisses [1]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Mistletoe, Reader-Insert, Traditions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 20:29:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15648384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taaya/pseuds/BrittaR
Summary: Of course somebody had to put up a mistletoe.





	Bloody mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> Already posted it on Tumblr, but I thought I'd give it a try here as well. My first reader insert. I found that I enjoy reading them so I might as well try writing them whenever I'm not working on my own novels. Hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> (I'm not taking requests for reader inserts as I can't promise I actually come up with an idea. But if you are okay with me maybe not actually being able to post anything but TRYING, I'd love you to leave prompts. By now I write TOS(!) Spock x Reader, Snape x Reader and I'm thinking about trying Walter Strickler x Reader.)

All around you was cheerful laughter and happiness. People were talking about the small things in life, mostly about all the nice things they had done and experienced this year and how much they missed their families at home. That’s what Christmas did to people. Especially in combination with alcohol.

You stood in a corner, a glass of your favorite alcohol in your hand, and watched the people around you. Being an Ensign on the Enterprise in just one of the small labs meant, that you knew only few of your comrades and the few friends you had were already gone.  
But right now you still didn’t feel like going back to your quarters. The soft carols in the background and the blinking colourful lights made the room comfortable even though you were on your own.

Okay, you also liked to stay here because that Russian bridge crew guy - What was his name? Chekov? Bit like the author. - stood close to the door, waiting for female and male crewmen alike to stand in the doorway and therefore under the mistletoe. You could tell he drank to much, but still it was nice to watch. And he was no predator, either. He pointed to the mistletoe and then asked the lady of the moment if she would mind kissing him. So far none of them rejected him, not even you when you came in almost two hours ago.

But right now watching him kiss others was more entertaining than the thought of kissing him again when you had to go through the door to leave. Because you knew how much he alcohol he had had in the last hours and you really did not want to smell or even taste his breath right now.

The door opened and in came the Captain. Chekov refrained from kissing his superior, thankfully, and nobody else tried it either. But that was your cue to leave. You had known that this was a shipwide party, for everyone to attend and that the Commanding Officers and each Chief of Deparment would join, too, once their schedule allowed. It was their plan to be approachable for their crew. But at the same time that meant that they could approach you as well and while you thought that Kirk was one of the best Captains the fleet ever had, you just didn’t want to talk to him. You weren’t that good with authority figures and him being actually that nice and open that he knew every crewman by name made it even worse for you. You didn’t want to be rude, you even liked him, but turning into a stuttering pile of anxious sweat on the floor just wasn’t what you wanted him to remember you for.

So you took the chance of Kirk agreeing to drink with Chekov to sneak to the door. You already thought yourself free and drew a relieved breath when you crashed into a blue wall of lean muscles.  
Gulping you took a step back to see you ran into Commander Spock, of all people. Your Chief of Department as Science Officer.

„Look, now (L/N) has to kiss Spock“, you heard Chekov‘s drunken laughter and flushed.

Spock arched a brow. Was he questioning you or the mistletoe tradition? Surely he knew what that bloody twig meant, it wasn’t exactly his first year among humans. But he couldn’t actually challenge you with that look, could he?

You wouldn’t dare to test your theory. Instead you mattered a barely audible „’xcuse me, Sir“ and tried to slip past him through the door frame.

A hand on your forearm stopped you. Just a light touch, not forcefully holding you back, merely asking for a moment of your attention.  
You turned and saw Spock, still looking at you.

„While this is no tradition of mine, Vulcans do respect tradition. If you wish to embrace your cultural rites, you will not hear me complain“, he said, calmly. Even with less emotion than usual. „And while it would not diminish my authority it might be beneficial to your social standing“, he added.

It would be, sure. Right now you were a mouse-ish, small Ensign most people didn’t even notice. While you didn’t mind being far away from the center of attention, you always had the feeling that people could not even remember where they knew you from. You just had nothing special on you. So being the girl that kissed Spock could give them at least something to talk about. But did you truly want that?

Then again he suggested it. And it was not like the Commander was unattractive, either.

So you finally nodded, and moved your hands to his side, to pull him closer. You felt his unusual body heat even through the layers of his uniform.

He bowed his head a little, so you wouldn’t have to stand on tiptoe, and closed the distance between you. He smelled like incense and tasted like herbal tea, both making you feel so calm, so at peace with yourself like you never experienced it before. You would have assumed your heart to be pounding against your rib cage, to be frightened by what you are doing. Instead you simply sneaked your arms around him, holding him close to yourself.

Only when you noticed your tongue slipping against his lips did you wake up from your trance. You stared at him wide eyed, then your glance moved over to the cheering crowd inside the mess hall.

„Erm… thank you, Sir“, you said, already turning around. „And sorry and …“

With that you hurried away, a strange mixture of embarrassment and happiness creeping up into your overworking brain. Hell, you kissed your boss. And you liked it. You certainly were doomed, right?


End file.
